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The air sharpens with fear and Polo tries to take a step back.
But Charlie holds tight. Steps forward. “I’ll say this one time. When a woman says no, she means no. Do I make myself clear?”
Polo gulps air. “Yes, sir.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Charlie snaps. With a grunt, he shoves Polo out of the hall and onto the dance floor. Then he whistles, and the crowd comes alive. Locals pull Polo toward the exit, pouring beer on him as they send him out on his ass.
“You planning to fight over me, Cowboy?” I ask, slowly sidling toward him, drawn by some magnetic sensation.
I hate how badly I want to be back in his arms. Charlie looks so handsome. In his faded blue jeans, soft denim shirt shoved up to the elbows, worn boots, and shiny brass belt buckle, he’s the epitome of a man. Everything about him, I crave. A real cowboy who loves the earth and his animals and works with his hands.
Already, I want him.
“Damn right I will.” He advances, his dark eyes swirling with protectiveness and lust. He hauls me to his chest, his rough, cut muscles tightening as he tips my chin to meet his searing gaze. “Seein’ someone else touch you, Ruby, drives me fucking crazy.”
In one swift movement, my lips are on his. I moan, running my fingers through his dark hair. The kiss turns urgent, desperate, and every inch of my skin heats. I feel the familiar quickening of my pulse, reveling in it. Only Charlie can do this to me.
I whimper when we break apart, grabbing the front of his shirt.
His intense gaze is still pinned on my face. Then, a sexy half-grin tips his lips. “What can I say, darlin’? Tourists.”
I smile up at him. “Easy, Cowboy. That was me four weeks ago.”
“Not anymore,” he says. “Haven’t you heard? You’re a local, Ruby.” Tipping my chin up, he sweeps the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. “At least to me.”
I flush and arch a brow. “That’s not what you said the night we met.”
“I was wrong,” he says, and this honest admission, the gruff softness, has my heart beating wildly. “C’mon.” He places a protective hand on my waist, monitoring my footing, safely guiding me back into the bar.I’ll always protect you,his touch tells me.I’ll always have you. “Dance floor missed you.”
I missed you.
“You okay?” he asks as he pulls me into a slow dance. Marvin sings a slowed-down melancholy version of Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s “Fishing in the Dark.”
I look up at him with heavy eyes. “Better now.”
“Fallon okay?”
“She went home. But I think she’s okay. How’s Wyatt?”
“Don’t worry about Wyatt.”
My gaze flicks to the ribbon on his wrist. “How long you plan to wear that ribbon, Cowboy?”
“As long as you want me to.”
“Oh,” I breathe softly.
My heart races. Fire licks the air between us.
His raw statement turns my legs to jelly, has my heart skipping every beat in the medical book.
I don’t know what his response means, I just know it feels like too much.
Too big.
Like it could break both of our hearts.
I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It’s so beautiful. So healthy.
